Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 151 The Holy Academy! Nine Saints Clash!
The entire city of Jinling seemed to have been frozen in time by an invisible hand—

On the streets and alleys, vendors and laborers stopped what they were doing and stood up to look up.

In the long streets and short alleys, pedestrians stopped, peddlers carrying loads forgot to shout, and teahouse waiters hung their teapots, all falling silent.

"What an extraordinary phenomenon!"

In the elementary school, an elderly gentleman with white hair and beard looked at the "Collection of Poems" on his desk, his lips trembling with excitement.

The children clung to the windowpanes, their dark eyes reflecting the sunlight. Suddenly, one of the little boys pointed out the window and asked, "Teacher, is this the Poet Saint mentioned in the book?"

In a riverside teahouse, an elderly scholar with white hair, engrossed in studying classics, suddenly knelt down, trembling, exclaiming, "In my lifetime, I have never been able to witness the audience of ten thousand poets!"

His blue robe was stained with tea, but he kept bowing repeatedly in the direction of the examination hall.

On the Qinhuai River, the painted boats with their vermilion railings creaked and groaned.

Su Xiaoxiao, the most beautiful courtesan at Zuixianlou, loosened her gilded fan, causing her pearl hairpin to tremble wildly.

This beauty, known for her aloofness, was now barefoot on the brocade stool, oblivious to the rouge stains on her snow-white stockings.

"Is this... Jiang Lang's New Chapter?"

She stared blankly at the increasingly clear, illusory image of the bright moon above the Jiangnan Examination Hall.

The music on the painted boat has ceased, and the singing girls, lifting their skirts, crowd around the gunwale. The boat girls point to the colorful sunset in the sky and exclaim in amazement.

But then one could see auspicious clouds of seven colors surging like waves, and a bright moon hanging in the shadows beneath the sun. The moonlight and the glow of the sunset intertwined, creating a phantom image of ten thousand scrolls of poetry and books paying homage in the sea of ​​clouds, like waves.

Gold fragments floated on the river's surface, as if some immortal had overturned a treasure box adorned with jewels.

"Look! That's the direction of the Jiangnan Examination Hall! It's the autumn examination season, so it's bound to produce some outstanding essays!"

"When the heavens display extraordinary phenomena, a groundbreaking article is sure to be born!"

"Where is the bell of the Confucian Temple? Why hasn't it rung yet?"

The atmosphere inside the Jiangnan Examination Hall was as still and heavy as iron.

Governor Wei Guanlan paced back and forth in the hall, his black leather boots making a dull thud on the blue brick floor.

An incense stick has burned out.

The incense stick used for keeping time in the incense burner had long since burned out, and the grayish-white ash fell outside the gilded lion-shaped incense burner.

"Why did the bell at the Confucian Temple not ring? What happened?"

He frowned slightly, finally growing impatient.

Suddenly, he turned to look at Du Jingchen, the provincial education commissioner: "Professor Du, why don't we get Jiang Sheng's article first, so we can be the first to read it?"

"Very good!"

The usually composed and prudent old education commissioner nodded without hesitation.

This chapter, which triggered the extraordinary phenomenon of "ten thousand poems paying homage," must at least be an article from [Mingzhou].

It must be the second round of the provincial league this autumn.

There is naturally no need to grade papers anonymously.

The other deputy examiners, Zhou Dunshi, were all without objection from the ten examiners.

"Bring the scroll!"

"As ordered!"

Inspector Zhao Cheng rushed towards Examination Room No. 1, taking three steps at a time, but suddenly stopped three feet from the door—

All that could be seen around Examination Room No. 1 (Class A) was the surrounding area.

A beam of moonlight-like light emanated from the examination room, condensing into a literary barrier as white as a wall—making it impossible to approach.

He looked through the light screen,

Inside the examination room, on Jiang Xingzhou's desk, a roll of plain paper seemed to be shimmering with starlight, the ink flowing across its surface like a dragon.

"The literary style is protected! This is indeed a phenomenon only found in top-tier works!"

The patrol officer, who was over fifty years old, choked with emotion, and the white hair under his official hat trembled slightly amidst his scholarly air.

At this time,
Inside the examination room,
Jiang Xingzhou finally awoke from that mysterious state, slowly raising his head, his eyes still reflecting the starry river.

He looked down at his answer sheet and saw that the ink on the paper was flowing on its own, each word shining brightly, transforming into drifting clouds and startled dragons, as if about to burst out of the paper!

It is clearly a literary treasure that has not yet been graded!

"Students hand in their papers."

Jiang Xingzhou handed his exam paper to the patrol officer who was standing three feet away from the examination room.

That barrier of literary energy that separated heaven and earth finally melted away like snow.

Zhao Cheng took a deep breath and respectfully accepted the exam paper with a bamboo tray. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight in his palm—the thin Xuan paper was as heavy as a thousand pounds!
Walking through the corridor,

The eyes of thousands of examinees, yamen runners, and clerks all followed the golden examination paper as it passed through layers of red railings and disappeared into the carved doors of the hall.

Patrol officer Zhao Cheng hurriedly returned to the hall and presented the document to Prefect Wei Guanlan with trembling hands.

Inside the hall, just as Wei Guanlan's fingertips touched the scroll, a sharp "clang" was heard—

This exam paper had a subtle, jade-like luster, and before it was even opened, it produced a clear, resonant sound like metal striking stone.

The moment Wei Guanlan unfurled the scroll, the hall fell into a sudden silence.

In the hall,

Education Commissioner Du Jingchen, Hanlin Academician Zhou Dunshi, and the prefects and education commissioners of the four prefectures of Jiangnan Circuit, disregarding their status, couldn't help but crane their necks to watch.

On that pristine white exam paper, the five characters "Spring River Flower Moon Night" soared through the air like a dragon, each stroke carrying the shimmering light of waves.

[sequence.]
The spring river rises with the tide, reaching the sea; the bright moon rises with the tide.

Rippling waves stretch for thousands of miles; where on the spring river is there no moon shining brightly?
Who first saw the moon by the riverbank? In what year did the river moon first shine on humankind?

I wonder how many will return by moonlight; the setting moon stirs emotions among the trees along the river.
[Postscript:]
Wei Guanlan's knuckles turned slightly white as he held the exam paper up to his eyes.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, the lingering echo of poetry emanating from his lips, and his fingertips trembled involuntarily.

What a great article!
On the Duojing Tower, he had been leaning against the vermilion railing for ten days, and the poem that had been swirling in his mind for so long but which he could never quite grasp—now suddenly leaped out onto this plain paper!

Jiang Xingzhou's calligraphy is still fresh, each character like a pearl rolling onto a jade plate.

The entire audience, all dressed in high-ranking official robes, held their breath, as if drawn by the text, and followed the slow unfolding of the scroll of Xuan paper.

As soon as the last line of ink, “The moon falls, its light swaying, the trees along the riverbank are filled with emotion!” came into view, a collective gasp suddenly filled the entire Zhigong Hall of the Imperial Examination Hall—the sound was extremely soft, yet it startled everyone.

The chief and deputy examiners looked on in shock, exchanging bewildered glances, and Wenxin trembled slightly involuntarily.

The wisps of sandalwood smoke lingered between the carved beams for a full quarter of an hour, and no one dared to break the sacred silence.

"Lord Wei, Lord Du, and Lord Zhou."

The Yangzhou educational commissioner's voice trembled slightly as he bowed deeply to the three Hanlin scholars in purple robes and jade belts, "You three are all Hanlin scholars and literary giants of Jiangnan. Do you have any comments on this article?"

Those below the rank of Jinshi (进士) have no right to comment on this poem.

Although Hanlin scholars could not grade the papers, they were qualified to offer a few comments.

Wei Guanlan's fingertips trembled slightly as he slowly traced the ink marks on the scroll, his voice surprisingly hoarse:
This poem is structured around the five characters: spring, river, flowers, moon, and night.

It should be noted that any one of these five characters is a supreme poetic title that poets have competed to compose and exhaust their talents for thousands of years, yet have struggled to reach its pinnacle.

But today, someone has actually managed to fuse the five realms into one, and transform the five major poetic themes into a single article!
Every word is like a chisel mark on the sky, every sentence like a hand cutting clouds, pushing this ancient poetic topic to an unprecedented and unparalleled pinnacle!
This is not poetry.

He is the king of poetry, a solitary peak above all others!

I have spent half my life diligently studying literature, believing myself to have reached the summit of Mount Kunlun and seen all the poems in the world, only to realize today...

Beyond Kunlun, there lies the fairyland of Penglai!

He sighed deeply, his sleeves falling down as if he had exhausted all his strength.

"This poem is unparalleled in the poetry world of our Great Zhou Dynasty!"
A single, outstanding work, yet it has become a masterpiece for everyone!

Academician Du, the educational commissioner, was overcome with emotion and wiped away his tears.

"This piece is truly a work that can move even ghosts and gods to tears!"

Zhou Hanlin also laughed heartily, tears welling in his eyes: "This is a blessing from heaven for the literary fortunes of Jiangnan! In the ten imperial examinations of the Great Zhou Dynasty, not a single poem can surpass this one!"

The hall was filled with solemn figures in red and purple robes, and the dripping of the water clock was exceptionally clear in the deathly silence, as if striking the hearts of everyone present.

While everyone was still savoring the poem and awaiting the final verdict from the temple bells, they hadn't had time to ponder it further.

At this moment——

"Crack!"

A sharp, tearing sound suddenly came from outside the examination hall, like the sky collapsing!
Everyone stepped out of the hall in shock, only to see a crack suddenly torn open in the sky above the Confucian Temple. Golden light and moonlight intertwined, spreading like a spider web across half of the sky in an instant!

Deep within the crack, the faint sound of metal and jade clashing could be heard, yet it seemed to be blocked by some invisible force, and could never truly descend to earth.

Two immense forces clashed in the clouds, causing the roof tiles of the Confucian Temple and the Imperial Examination Hall to tremble violently!
"This is."

Wei Guanlan's pupils shrank sharply. "Something happened at the Confucian Temple?!"

"grown ups!"

A clerk stumbled into the hall, his face ashen.

"We have just received an urgent report from the Nanjing Confucian Temple!"

The mallet of the Spring and Autumn Period bronze bell... it hovers in mid-air, seemingly about to strike, but is held in place by another beam of moonlight, and has yet to fall!

The chief and deputy examiners in the Jiangnan Examination Hall were in an uproar, their faces showing fear.

They had never seen or even heard of such a situation before!

"Lord Wei, the Confucian Temple, what has happened?"

Everyone was terrified and looked at Governor Wei Guanlan.

"The bell tolls at the Temple of Literature, the Emperor's judgment is made on all the literature under Heaven!"
The bell hammer is frozen in place?!
Does this mean that several sages appeared in the Confucian Temple at the same time, and that disagreements arose among them?

Wei Guanlan was stunned and guessed.

"This is a battle between sages!"

Du Jingchen gasped, his hair and beard trembling.

Upon hearing those four words, everyone in the hall paled. "Could it be that this poem, 'A Moonlit Night on the Spring River,' has actually caused the sages of the Confucian Temple to disagree?!"

Outside the window, the crack that stretched across the sky flickered between light and shadow.

A golden ray of light and a ray of moonlight intertwined, illuminating the entire Jiangnan Examination Hall in a way that was sometimes as bright as day and sometimes as dark as night.

The bronze bells under the eaves of the examination hall swayed wildly, yet eerily remained silent—as if even heaven and earth were holding their breath, awaiting the outcome of this debate between the sages.

At the summit of Dongsheng Shenzhou,

Amidst the surging sea of ​​clouds, a solitary peak pierces the sky.

The summit is shrouded in purple mist all year round, with golden rays sometimes flowing around it, and its cultural splendor soaring into the sky.

This place is not recorded in mortal maps or included in worldly books, but it is the highest sacred place of literature and Taoism for the human race in the Eastern Divine Continent—the Holy Academy.

The monastery is not built of bricks and stones, nor can it be built by human hands.

It is a hall of talent jointly built by the sages of the human race throughout the ages, based on their righteous spirit and guided by the laws of heaven and earth.

Only by passing through the realm of "immortality" and achieving a status of "half-saint" or higher can one obtain a wisp of guiding purple energy, ascend the clouds to the peak, and enter the Holy Academy.

This is the ancestral temple of the Dongsheng Shenzhou Humanity Confucian Temple.

The Great Zhou Dynasty is the common ruler of the human race in the Eastern Divine Continent.

The Spring and Autumn Bells of every national, state, prefectural, and county Confucian temple echo the "Heavenly Bell of Literature" deep within the sacred temple.

Whenever a fine article of the [county level or above] rank appears in the world, the saint on duty at the Holy Temple will descend with a wisp of divine thought to the Confucian temples of various prefectures, counties, and districts, and judge the article's grade with the sound of the literary bell.

On ordinary days, when there is nothing to do, the Holy Academy only needs two or three half saints to take turns to judge the excellent works submitted by the Confucian temples of the world from the state, prefecture, and county levels.

However, today is the autumn examination season of the Great Zhou Dynasty, and the splendid essays from the examination halls of various prefectures are arriving in droves. They must be judged more carefully and cross-checked to avoid making mistakes and lest they mislead the students of the world.

Therefore, today there are nine human semi-saints on duty at the Holy Academy, who are responsible for judging articles published above the county level.

On the cloud platform deep within the Holy Academy, nine figures stood suspended in mid-air, as still as an abyss.

They were surrounded by purple mist, or appeared as blue lotuses, moon shadows, or boats; each figure seemed to carry the ultimate truth of the universe.

"The 'Spring View Ode' of Jiangnan Circuit is valid for entering [and exiting the county]!"

"The 'Autumn Thoughts' poem by Lingnan Dao is still lacking in refinement and is not worthy of being judged by the prefectural judge [or county judge]."

The nine semi-saints, with thoughts as swift as lightning, instantly determined the ranking of hundreds of articles.

Suddenly, a purple-robed half-saint frowned: "Strange, this exam paper from Longyou seems to have the appearance of a [high-ranking official]!"

Before he finished speaking, the entire platform suddenly trembled.

The female demigod in the moonlight suddenly rose and exclaimed, "A great anomaly has occurred at the Jiangnan Examination Hall!"

Article: [Strange Phenomenon]!
—This is a manifestation of the writer's talent, which resonates with the talent of heaven and earth. It is not due to human intervention, nor can the decree of the Confucian temple influence the writer's [extraordinary phenomenon].

Therefore, sages often observe the unusual phenomena in a person's writings before reviewing the writings.

At this moment, the gazes of the nine semi-saints pierced through the vast sea of ​​clouds, all looking towards the direction of the Jiangnan Examination Hall.

Nine divine thoughts traversed thousands of miles of mountains and rivers, guarding the Jiangnan Examination Hall like pillars of heaven.

"It's been a thousand years."

The white-bearded demigod's jade ruler glowed with a bluish light, and the inscription "Poetry" on the ruler moved on its own: "Ten thousand poems pay homage, poems appear before the king. Such extraordinary phenomena have reappeared in the human world."

"pity.
This poem, though stunning, appeared in the examination hall of the Jiangnan Examination Hall.

The rules of the Confucian Temple cannot be broken. Even those with extraordinary talent should be treated as [those from Mingzhou]!

Another female demigod, shrouded in moonlight, lightly raised her hand, and the moonlight instantly condensed into chains, forcefully suppressing the poetic energy that was about to soar into the sky back into the examination hall.

"absurd!!"

The purple-robed demigod roared like thunder, nine streaks of purple energy flying from his sleeves, clashing with the Moonlight Chains in mid-air, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the heavens:

"This poem is unparalleled in the Great Zhou Dynasty!"
This extraordinary phenomenon is the "Ten Thousand Poems Paying Homage," which consists of poems by a king, poems that protect the nation!
A king of poetry has been born, and you all dare to obscure his brilliance with the word "rules"? This poetic spirit commands the homage of countless poems; he shall be a [national treasure]!

How can we judge it based on [Mingzhou]?!

If such a judgment is rendered, I fear the saints will laugh!

The voice has not fallen,

The sea of ​​clouds above the Holy Temple suddenly churned violently.
Nine distinct auras of sainthood collided in the void, scattering the clouds around the solitary peak and revealing the outline of the vast Eastern Continent below.

The struggle between sages can move mountains and rivers with a single thought!
"Could it be!"

The purple-robed demigod, his hair and beard bristling, angrily demanded, "Are you deliberately belittling the art of poetry?"

The female demigod gazed into the distance and said, "It is not that I am deliberately belittling you, but rather that this is the rule of the Confucian Temple, and it has always been so."

"This action certainly violates the thousand-year-old regulations of the Confucian Temple!"

A half-saint dressed in a black Confucian robe suddenly spoke up in agreement, his voice echoing across the cloud platform.

The platform fell silent instantly.

All nine semi-saints knew that the ranking of literary and Daoist arts had its own ironclad rules—

Localities are divided into seven ranks: the realm, the country, the state, the prefecture, the county, the town, and the township.

Articles are also classified into seven levels: those that spread throughout the world, those that protect the country, those that resonate in the prefecture, those that reach the county, those that reach the town, and those that are known in the village.

Since its establishment, the Imperial Judgment System of the Confucian Temple has been responsible for assigning grades to all articles in the world, and it has established two core rules.

[The first core principle: Literature is superior to land; if one judges a work by its place of origin, then the bells of the Confucian temple will ring!]

If the quality of an article is higher than that of a place, then the quality is determined by the place, and the article's quality will naturally improve.

For example, if an article from [Dazhou] appears in a county town, the Confucian Temple will directly order it to be removed from the county, triggering the sounding of the bell.

In an instant, all the scholars in the county knew that another article had been published outside the county.

If a scholar wishes to be promoted from a county to a prefecture, he must make his own efforts, go to various places to promote his articles, participate in literary gatherings, or publish them in various literary journals to make a name for himself.

— Surely some people will think that if this rule is followed, all the scholars in the world will rush to the imperial city to publish their articles?

This way, you can skip the effort of upgrading your articles and directly reach the highest level.

To dispel this idea from scholars, a second rule was established!
[The second core rule: Literature is inferior to the earth; character is judged by literature; the bell in the Confucian temple does not ring.]

When a [Dafu] article appears in the Imperial City, it will be judged by the highest-ranking [Dafu].

However, the Wenzhong bell never rang and was only recorded in the Confucian Temple.

This means that, apart from being recorded as a rank by the Confucian Temple, it was not known to any scholars in the vicinity, nor was it indicated by the sound of bells.

The writer himself remains completely unknown!

He still needs to work hard, going everywhere to promote his articles and increase his literary reputation.

This forced scholars to evaluate their own writings and return to the state, prefecture, or even county level to publish them.

Instead of being overly ambitious and rushing to the capital to publish their articles.

"According to the rules of the Confucian Temple, the first principle is to judge the quality of a place based on its location, and to encourage debate."

Despite the unusual phenomenon of "Spring River Flower Moon Night" appearing in the examination hall of Jiangnan Examination Hall, this poem "Spring River Flower Moon Night" can only be judged as "Mingzhou"!

After years of refinement, he spread this writing throughout the Great Zhou Dynasty's imperial city and the ten provinces, and his talent soared, naturally leading to his promotion to [National Protector]!

The female demigod in the moonlight said helplessly.

"The Confucian Temple's imperial decree on the writings,"
The real purpose was to "safety net" articles—to prevent articles above the county level from being buried in old papers and forgotten for decades or even centuries.

If that were the case, directly assigning the highest possible grade to each article would surely make all the scholars in the world complacent, causing them to bury themselves in writing articles and simply hand them over to the Confucian Temple for grading.

They neither argued with others nor sought to make a name for themselves in literature.

They have no desire to argue!
Have no desire to contend for the Way!
He buried himself in old papers, entertaining himself, but his writing deteriorated day by day.

The only way is to provide a minimum standard for articles, while letting scholars debate the maximum standard themselves!
In this way, scholars from all over the world will actively participate in literary gatherings, strive to be published in literary journals, and promote their articles and literary reputation!
Only in this way can they learn from and engage in debate with each other, thus continuously improving their literary skills.

The female demigod Yuehua lightly flicked her long sleeves: "Rules are rules."

If we make an exception because of a single poem, where will the spirit of literary debate and discussion be in the future?

With a light tap of her fingertips, the bell hammer of the Jinling Confucian Temple was about to fall. "This poem, 'A Moonlit Night on the Spring River,' should be considered as [Mingzhou]! Once he goes to the capital and spreads his literary fame, he can naturally be promoted to [Zhenguo].

"Wait a minute!"

The white-bearded demigod suddenly stepped forward, his broken ruler emitting a blue light, actually freezing the bell hammer in mid-air: "This old man would like to ask, what exactly is the original intention behind the rules established by the Confucian Temple?"

The platform was completely silent.

The robes of the nine half-saints fluttered without wind, and their holy might clashed fiercely within a small space.

"Naturally, it is to encourage scholars to strive for progress and to stimulate intellectual debate!"

A semi-saint said in a deep voice.

"Not bad!"

The white-bearded sage, his hair and beard bristling, said, “The Confucian Temple established these two rules to encourage scholars to debate!”

He suddenly unfurled the scroll of poems in his hand, “But this poem, ‘A Moonlit Night on the Spring River,’ ask yourselves honestly, does it need ‘inspiration’ or ‘debate’?”

Who does it contend with?
Who would dare to argue with it?

The moment the scroll of poems was unfurled, the long river of poetry from the heavens suddenly poured down, and countless brilliant poetic stars fell like rain.

In the Eastern Continent, the Holy Academy was shaken—their talents were surging uncontrollably!
"What you say is true, brother!"

The purple-robed demigod suddenly burst into laughter, his voice shaking the universe: "Such a magnificent phenomenon—a pilgrimage of ten thousand poets!"
Who dares to disagree?

—Do you still insist on clinging to the old rules of the Confucian Temple?

If this poem is to be named "[Mingzhou]" today, how mediocre we, mere sages, are!

"However, there is no precedent for direct imperial decree [to protect the nation]. How should the rules of the Confucian Temple, which have been in place for thousands of years, be interpreted in this way?"
Are you suggesting we change these two rules of the Confucian Temple?!

The female demigod, with her flowing sleeves billowing, transformed the moonlight into chains that bound the golden bell of the Confucian Temple layer by layer.

Her face was frosty, but her voice carried a hint of stubbornness:

"If we make an exception for this one poem today, tomorrow hundreds or thousands of poems and essays will demand the same treatment. When the rules of the Confucian Temple are broken and order collapses, who will bear the responsibility for this crime for all eternity?"

(End of this chapter)